


There's No Light to Guide Me if You're Not the Flame

by TheBlueshiftNebula



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: AUTHOR AU, Alternate Universe - Writing & Publishing, Anxiety, Developing Relationship, Domestic, Falling In Love, M/M, Mutual Pining, Romance, Victuuri Gift Exchange 2017, Writer AU, Writer Katsuki Yuuri, Writer Victor Nikiforov, Yuuri writes fanfiction based on Victor's books, phichit is the real mvp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-11
Updated: 2018-01-11
Packaged: 2019-02-18 10:19:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13098015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBlueshiftNebula/pseuds/TheBlueshiftNebula
Summary: Victor Nikiforov, bestselling author, has completely lost any and all inspiration to write. After his hugely successful series of books, he finds himself trapped at the pinnacle of his career. Settling in Detroit for the moment, Victor has resigned himself to his writer's block while doing incredibly boring interviews with incredibly boring people.After reading Victor Nikiforov's series in high school, Katsuki Yuuri, a freelance journalist, found his passion for writing ignited. Freelancing can be stressful sometimes, and his hobby of writing fanfiction helps to take his mind off things. But he knows that freelancing is only a temporary solution to his employment situation, though he isn't sure what the next step to take is.So when Yuuri takes a contract to interview his idol, the two of them discover their paths in life are intertwined in ways they could never have imagined.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nikniak](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nikniak/gifts).



> To [nikniak](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nikniak/pseuds/nikniak), Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays! (Well, it was the holiday season when I submitted this. So happy belated holidays/happy January) I decided to go with this prompt because it seemed to be the one you were most excited about, but also I love the idea of Yuuri being a fanfiction author (albeit a bit of a closet one!). In your prompt you said you wanted a one shot, but this really got away from me, so I decided to split it into two chapters. I had a great time writing it! I've never written an AU for Yuri on Ice, so this was a cool change of pace for me.
> 
> The story is loosely based on your Twitter thread (found [here](https://twitter.com/nikniako/status/869786236885532672) for anyone interested--take a read, it's really cute!) though I did end up changing a number of things (hope that's ok!). But you gave me so much great material to work with, it was really fun!
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy my take on your idea! ^_^

For Yuuri, high school felt like floating.

But not in the happy, blissful kind of way. Not in the way a new relationship makes you feel, or when you get a new puppy—but rather, like he was simply....existing. Like nothing really affected him. _Empty._

He would listen in class, do his homework, study for tests....but none of it felt _real._  


His parents were starting to ask what he was planning on doing after high school. It was mostly understood that he would go on to do some kind of post-secondary education—perhaps even abroad, his grades were good enough—but Yuuri couldn't think of a place he particularly wanted to go.

Or even what he wanted to _do_.

It seemed like everyone around him had it all worked out: go to college, university, it didn't matter. Get a degree, get a job. They all seemed to understand how their life would go.

But for Yuuri, it didn't seem like enough. Get a degree? A job? Doing what? He had no idea. 

The word "passion" came to him, but he didn't know what that felt like. Passion? For what?  


He liked a few things. Video games. Skating with Yuuko and Nishigori. Writing. But none of it felt right, as it was now. Something was missing, but he didn't know what. 

It was beginning to worry his parents, he could tell. But they tried not to push him too much, knowing how adversely he reacted to pressure. Truth be told, however, it was beginning to worry Yuuri as well. What was he going to _do?_

* * *

  


The answer, it turned out, would fall into his lap, like these things tend to do.

  


* * *

"Yuuri!"

Yuuri turned from his locker to see Yuuko coming towards him, smiling. He waved back, tugging on his shoes.

"Hey, Yuuko," he said when she came to a halt beside his locker.

"Yuuri," she said, a bit breathless, "I just found the most _amazing thing._ "

It was then he noticed that she was clutching a book to her chest. It didn't look like a textbook: the back cover was facing him, black with silver and gold markings around a little paragraph of text. He raised his eyebrows at her, waiting.

She turned the book around so he could read the cover: _Gold_ , by Victor Nikiforov.

Yuuri frowned. He had read his fair share of books, but had never heard of anyone by that name.

"You _have_ to read it. Immediately. Tonight."

He couldn't help but laugh a bit. "Why? Is it that good?" He squinted at the author's name. "I've never heard of him....is that an American name?"

Yuuko turned the book around again, examining the cover. "I think it's....German? Russian? I'm honestly not sure." She turned her eyes back to Yuuri. "It doesn't matter. What does matter is that it's wonderful and you're going to love it."

With that, she shoved the book into his chest.

"Will you at least tell me what it's about?" he asked, grabbing the book and smiling at Yuuko's enthusiasm.

Yuuko shook her head fervently. "No, that would spoil it. Just trust me," she said with a coy smile. "You're going to love it."

Yuuri turned the book over, intending to read the summary on the back, when a strong arm suddenly slumped heavily around his shoulders.

"Oh man, Yuuko's convinced you to read that?" Nishigori scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Don't do it, man. It'll suck you in and you'll never be heard from again."

Yuuko huffed. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Nishigori smirked, bringing Yuuri's head against his side to rub at his hair. "What, Yuuri, you like this romance crap?"

Yuuri pushed him away, running a hand through his hair. "Cut it out, Nishigori," he said, a little embarrassed. 

Yuuri didn't keep it a secret that he liked to read. But unfortunately, Nishigori wasn't quite right. Yuuri didn't like this "romance crap"—he _loved_ it. It was his guilty pleasure, and he refused to let Nishigori tease him for it. 

Yuuko pushed Nishigori's shoulder a bit. "Don't be mean, Takeshi. Leave Yuuri alone." She shot Yuuri a shy smile. "But I really do think you'll like it."

* * *

Yuuri sat at the desk in his bedroom, staring at his math homework in the vain hope that the problems in front of him would magically solve themselves. He sighed, rubbing his eyes, causing his glasses to get pushed up onto his head. He had been working on these problems for an hour now, and nothing seemed to be working out. Leaning back in his chair, he let his eyes wander around the room, seeking anything for a distraction.

His eyes settled on his bed, where he had tossed his school bag when he got home. It was lying slightly open, a black covered book peeking out of it. 

Ah, yes. The book Yuuko lent him (more like forced on him). He hadn't had a chance to do much more than shove it in his bag before classes started, and he had all but forgotten about it.

Getting up from his chair, he crossed the room to his bed, pulling the book out of his bag. The cover was quite simplistic, black with the word _Gold_ written elegantly across it in a metallic gold. Yuuri flipped it over and quickly read the back. It didn't seem like anything exceptionally new or captivating: at first glance, it seemed like a fairly standard love story. But Yuuko had been so adamant that Yuuri would love it, and Yuuri trusted Yuuko's judgment (especially when it came to books). So he shrugged, sat down on his bed, and opened it.

* * *

It was late into the night when Yuuri finally closed the book. For a moment, he simply stared into the darkness beyond the light of his bedside lamp. His heart was beating all too fast, considering all he had done was read a book.

No, that wasn't quite right. This wasn't a book you simply read.

It was a book you _experienced._

The characters felt so _alive_. Yuuri felt like he'd known them his entire life, that the cornerstone of his existence was currently held in the pages. He couldn't remember his life before this moment, too swept up in all of his emotions. He felt the tears on his face before he realized he had been crying. The story resonated within him, encircling his heart and capturing it expertly. 

In that moment, he had a sudden epiphany.

Up until that point, the word _passion_ had dully bounced off of him. Passion for a job, or a hobby, even for another person, never really made sense to him. It wasn't something he understood at a fundamental level. 

But now, he felt it burn inside him.

Nothing had ever made him feel this way before. It was like his life had been faded grays and muted blacks, nothing ever really leaping out to catch his attention.

But now, everything was filled with so much _colour_. The blue of the blanket on his bed assaulted his eyes; the red of his shirt on the floor seared into his brain; even Vicchan's brown fur looked so bright, like chocolate come to life. It was all so vivid, as if he was seeing the world for the first time.

Yuuri had always liked writing. It was something he did in his free time, a way to relieve stress. He enjoyed writing fanfiction, stories based on the things like video games and other books. But he could never, ever imagine writing something that would move anyone the way _Gold_ had moved him.

And yet, he wanted to try.

In that moment, for the first time, Katsuki Yuuri's future felt clear. Despite his tears, he smiled.  


He ran a hand over the cover of the book, over the author's name.

 _Victor Nikiforov_. The name of the person who had sparked so much _fire_ in him. The name of the person whose writing took him by the shoulders, turned him towards his path in life, and _pushed_.

The name Yuuri would never forget.

* * *

* * *

Everything took off from there.

It was like a switch had been flipped inside Yuuri. Everything suddenly seemed to make sense: his future, his path, his _passion_. The next day at school, he interrogated Yuuko on everything she knew about Victor Nikiforov.

Apparently, he was a relatively new writer, whose books were already creating waves. Yuuri was ecstatic to learn that _Gold_ was only the first book in a planned trilogy.

That night, he researched everything he needed to know about pursuing a career in writing.  


In the meantime, he took the logical next step in his obsession:

Fanfiction.

Yuuri always enjoyed writing, though the majority of what he wrote never left the safety of his computer. Anything he did post online was met with positive feedback, if any. That had always been enough for Yuuri.

Now, though...he was _inspired_.

And so, after looking up various careers in writing, Yuuri opened a fresh document on his computer, put on his headphones, and let the words pour out of him.

* * *

* * *

Life after high school was, unsurprisingly, difficult.

The more Yuuri looked into writing as a career, the less he wanted to attempt to traverse the highly competitive landscape that was fiction writing. Finding an editor, securing a publishing company to even glance at anything he wrote, actually writing something original....it all seemed so daunting. 

So Yuuri started to look into something a bit more achievable: journalism.

As it turns out, journalism was _wonderful._ Despite Yuuri's intense anxiety, interviewing people, writing about them, even the more "dull" topics he got, was fascinating. Though he kept up with his own fiction writing, he found he was happy to keep it as a hobby, rather than try to turn it into a job. Besides, journalism felt _right,_ somehow. Like he was becoming a part of people's lives, even for just a moment. 

Not too long after he read _Gold,_ Victor Nikiforov's next book in the series came out: _Duetto_. The series was quickly gaining popularity, and _Duetto_ became the number one selling book for two months straight.

Yuuri, of course, bought the book as soon as he could, and devoured it even faster than he read _Gold_. He had a sense of apprehension, remembering how often the sequel to a beloved book was never quite as good as the first.

Yuuri shouldn't have worried, though. _Duetto_ was, somehow, far superior to its predecessor.

He had purchased the English copies of both books, worried he might be missing some nuance that was lost in translation. Though his high school had a mandatory English class each year, Yuuri never really bothered to learn more than the bare minimum. After reading _Gold,_ however, Yuuri threw himself into studying English, desperate to read the book in its original language.

Reading _Gold_ in English had been on a whole different level. Yuuri had cried twice as hard. There was a beautiful subtly to the way Victor wrote that didn't wasn't done justice in the Japanese translation.

And, of course, there was the fanfiction.

Yuuri was surprised how little there was to read when he first looked it up for _Gold_. And what he did find was....not the best.

And so, the way it so often is, he realized that if he wanted to find the content he liked, he'd have to write it himself. He didn't think anything would come of it; after all, it was mostly a way to relieve stress.

What he didn't expect, however, was for his stories to become _popular_. Writing under the name KatsuYu, his works ended up having a huge following, much to Yuuri's bewilderment.

But the idea that maybe, just maybe, he was connecting to fans on even one tenth of the level that _Gold_ had connected to him, made him happier than he would ever admit.

* * *

* * *

_Four years later..._

Yuuri stretched his arms above his head, feeling sore after sitting in the same position for so long. The only light illuminating his Detroit apartment was coming from the laptop currently balanced on his legs.

Yuuri checked the time on the bottom right of his screen. Just after 4:00 a.m. 

He sighed, pulling his headphones off of his head and tossing them on the table next to him. Who knew freelancing would cause his sleep schedule to go completely out of whack?

Yuuri never would have expected to go into the freelancing business, but he discovered it to be much flexible compared to a more steady, nine-to-five job. He had taken some freelancing gigs during his university time and discovered, much to his surprise, that he enjoyed it. There was something incredibly liberating about setting his own schedule, being his own boss. He liked it enough that he decided to continue doing it, despite graduating from university with a few permanent job offers.

The instability of freelancing, however, caused him more anxiety than he expected; but ever since graduating, the jobs were still coming in, and he was still able to pay his bills and eat. While Yuuri knew this wasn't a permanent solution, this was alright, for now. He would worry about it later; it was Future Yuuri's problem. 

Just then, the door to the adjacent bedroom suddenly swung open, making Yuuri jump. Phichit, his roommate (and best friend forever, of course), walked into the kitchen, turning the light on. 

"Morning," Phichit said through a yawn, shuffling over to the coffee maker on the counter.

Yuuri chuckled from his spot on the couch in the living room. "Can I really say 'good morning' if I haven't gone to bed yet?"

Phichit sighed. "Your sleep schedule is all messed up again, huh?"

"That implies that it was ever fixed in the first place." Putting his laptop aside, he stood carefully, legs feeling numb after lying down for so long. "Besides, I do my best writing between one and four a.m."

Phichit yawned again, pulling his cup of coffee from under the machine. "Yeah, yeah, so you've told me." He turned to Yuuri, wagging a finger at him. "But this is no good for you, son. How will you ever grow up to be big and strong if you keep doing this?"

Yuuri laughed, waving away Phichit's mock-concern. "Sorry, _Dad_. I'm going to bed soon, I promise."

Phichit drank deeply from his cup. "So, what are you writing this time? Business or pleasure?"

Yuuri couldn't help the flush that crept up his cheeks. "Um, a bit of both."

He had an assignment to complete for a new client: just a simple write up of an interview he had conducted the other day. It wasn't nearly as interesting as what he had actually been working on for the past few hours.

Victor Nikiforov had recently published the last book in his _Gold_ series: _Stay Close to Me._ Yuuri had devoured it in record time, his mind already whirring with new fanfiction ideas. He was at his computer and pulling up a new document the second he read the last word.

Yuuri was both fiercely proud and horrifically embarrassed about his fanfictions: he enjoyed writing, he really did, but he couldn’t shake the idea that what his writing was simply a pale imitation of the work of a master. 

His many, many fans, however, begged to differ.

He wrote his first fanfiction in high school, coming off of his high of reading _Gold_. The story, _As My Sun Rises,_ was a huge success, gaining such popularity that Yuuri himself could scarcely believe it. When _Duetto_ was released, people _begged_ Yuuri to write another story, but he was right in the middle of university and adjusting to life in Detroit, and he just didn’t have time.

So when _Stay Close to Me_ came out, Yuuri threw himself into his new story: _This Beating Heart_. Despite his somewhat long absence from the fanfiction world, his new works were met with even more enthusiasm from at least twice as many people; the fandom had grown quite a bit since Yuuri first wrote _As My Sun Rises_ , and they _all_ seemed to want to read the works of KatsuYu. 

Phichit, being Yuuri's best friend and roommate since university, of course knew all about Yuuri's obsession with Victor Nikiforov's works, even if he didn't fully understand it. And, being the Best Friend Ever that he was, he had read the series so he could understand Yuuri's fanfiction, despite Yuuri's insistence that he didn't have to. ("Of _course_ I have to, Yuuri, this is important to you, so it's important to me too!") While Phichit might not have fallen head over heels for the books in the way Yuuri had, he could still see the appeal that they held.

Phichit smirked at Yuuri over his coffee. "Probably more one that the other, hm?"

Yuuri's blush deepened in guilt. "I _did_ promise to upload a new chapter by the end of this week..."

Phichit sighed dramatically. "Ah, Yuuri, so devoted to your many fans! They're lucky to have you!"

"It's not like that!" Yuuri said, embarrassed all over again. "It's just _fanfiction_ , Phichit, it's not like I'm writing for real."

Phichit huffed. "I fail to see the difference. You're spending hours of your free time writing, just because you love these books so much. And you're doing it without being paid? Just because you want to? I think that's way more amazing than writing something you're being paid to do.

"Besides," he continued, "your writing is amazing! Seriously, I should commission you to write something for _The King and the Skater_. I tried writing once, but it turns out I'm crap at it."

Yuuri laughed, sitting back down on the couch to turn off his laptop. "How about I write something for you if you paint something for me from _Stay Close to Me?_ "

Phichit grinned. He had graduated at the same time as Yuuri, majoring in Visual Arts. Like Yuuri, he had decided to go for the freelance route, and recently began picking up more and more clients as word got around of his talents.

"What are you doing up so early, anyway?" Yuuri asked, saving his work before closing his laptop.

"I have a shift at six," Phichit replied.

"Isn't this your last week at the coffee shop?" Yuuri asked.

" _Yes_ , I'm so happy," Phichit said, draining his mug. "It's so nice to be able to pay the bills with art, finally. No more smelling like coffee every day."

Yuuri smiled. He was happy Phichit's freelancing was finally paying off.

Phichit put his mug in the sink. "Alright, I'm gonna go take a shower." He pointed an accusing finger at Yuuri. "And _you_ need to go to bed."

"I know, I know, I'm going," Yuuri said. Now that he wasn't laser focused on his writing, he was feeling the effects of being awake since 10:00 a.m. He yawned. "Good night, Phichit."

"Good morning, Yuuri."

* * *

Yuuri's alarm went off at 11:00 a.m., and Yuuri, like a good and proper adult, slept through it. 

It was 2:00 p.m. when Yuuri actually woke up. By the time he was out of his room and done in the shower, Phichit was home from his shift.

"Morning," Yuuri said, still a little bit groggy as he went to the coffee machine, a scene very reminiscent of earlier that morning.

"You can't really say 'good morning' at 3:00 p.m., Yuuri," Phichit said in a scolding tone. "And if you drink coffee now, you'll never get your sleep schedule fixed."

Yuuri made a noncommittal noise of agreement before sitting at the table with his mug. Phichit sighed, going back to scrolling through his phone on the couch.

Pulling out his own phone, Yuuri went through his emails. He was happy to see a new freelancing request, sent to the inbox tied to his freelancing website. He clicked on it, quickly reading the message. It all seems to be pretty standard: they needed someone for an interview and a subsequent write up. Yuuri frowned when he saw the name of the company. It was from a news website, and a fairly well known one at that. Why would they be contacting a freelancer when they undoubtedly had plenty of journalists of their own? 

Yuuri scrolled back down to see who exactly he was to interview.

And _screeched_.

Phichit jumped up from the couch, phone clattering to the floor. "What? What is it?!"

Yuuri held his phone in both hands, shaking so hard he couldn't read the screen anymore. He didn't realize he was practically hyperventilating until Phichit came over to rub his back.

"Hey, Yuuri, what's wrong? What happened?" Phichit asked, concerned. He was no stranger to Yuuri's anxiety—and even the occasional panic attack—but it usually came with some warning signs. 

Yuuri couldn't find his voice to explain. Instead, he silently handed his phone to Phichit.

There was a minute of silence as he read the email. Phichit let out a low whistle when he was done. "Damn," he said softly.

Yuuri just nodded, head in his hands.

It wasn't just any interview.

They wanted him to interview _Victor Nikiforov_.

It made sense now, why they were hiring a freelancer instead of doing this in house. Victor Nikiforov, while very kind and generous with his fans, was notoriously difficult to interview. It wasn't that he was rude, just....difficult. Rarely would he answer questions seriously, and he was a master at deflection. More often than not, interviews with Victor consisted of him dodging the question and providing little to no useful information about anything other than his books.

The company was offering to set everything up; all Yuuri had to do was show up and conduct the interview. While they had some general ideas as to where they wanted the interview to go, the questions themselves were left up to Yuuri's discretion.

Yuuri's hyperventilating was threatening to turn into a full blown panic attack. He couldn't even begin to process the information in the email.

"Hey, Yuuri, whoa, it's ok, you're ok." Phichit was rubbing slow, soothing circles on Yuuri's back. 

"W-what am I going to do, Phicht?" Yuuri tried to take deep, steady breaths, but the air wasn't working with his lungs.

"What are you going to _do?_ " Phichit echoed, incredulous. "It's obvious what you're going to do! You're going to go in there and interview _Victor freaking Nikiforov!_ "

This, unsurprisingly, didn't help with Yuuri's growing panic.

"I-I can't do that!" Yuuri cried, voice trembling. "Why on Earth would they ask _me_ to do that? I'm just an ordinary, dime a dozen freelancer, what—"

"Ok, _no_ , stop that right now!" Phichit demanded, grabbing one of their kitchen chairs and dragging it next to Yuuri. He sat down and reached across the table to hold one of Yuuri's hands in both of his.

"Hey, Yuuri, just listen for a sec, ok?"

Yuuri looked up at Phichit, feeling a bit more grounded by his touch.

"Obviously they contacted you because you're a fantastic writer. And don't try to deny it! I've read your stuff, and it's great, really. Trust me, I would tell you if it sucked."

This got a small smile out of Yuuri. Phichit grinned back. 

"This will be a walk in the park for you. Haven't you done dozens of interviews by now? And they've all gone well, right?"

Yuuri nodded, his breathing slowly starting to even out.

"So you see? There's nothing at all to be worried about. You'll go in there, knock it out of the park, and probably make Victor Nikiforov fall in love with you in the process. It'll be just like in one of his books! How romantic!"

Yuuri laughed, the sound still a bit shaky and unsteady, but it was an improvement.

"Don't sell yourself so short, Yuuri," Phichit said softly. "You're amazing, ok? So here." He slid Yuuri's phone back to him. "You reply to that email and tell them you accept the job."

Yuuri sniffed a bit, swiping a hand under his eyes. "Thanks, Phichit," he said, voice thick.

Phichit beamed. "Anytime," he replied. "After all, it's in the Best Friend job description."

Yuuri picked up his phone, hands still shaking a bit, but not as badly as before. He hit _reply_ on the email and slowly typed out a response.

_Thank you very much for contacting me. I'm pleased to say I will accept the job..._

* * *

At the same time, a few streets away, Victor Nikiforov slammed his laptop shut with a little more force than necessary, scowling in frustration.

It was no good. No matter what he did, the words just wouldn't come.

He sighed heavily, rubbing his eyes, which hurt after staring at a screen for so long. Makkachin huffed in her sleep at the sound, curled up at the end of the bed.

Victor Nikiforov, bestselling author, was fighting the worst case of writer's block he had ever experienced.

It frustrated him to no end. He was just coming off the success of his _Gold_ series. People were still losing their collective shit about the latest book, _Stay Close to Me_. Interviews were still being lined up for it, book signing deals were still in the works; hell, there were even preliminary talks of the series being made into a movie.

He was at the height of his career, and should have been riding the high of it.

Instead, he was downright _bored._

How was he supposed to top a series like that? Every time he sat down to write something new, it all felt like a rehashed version of what he had already done. Each book had been written to surprise his audience: a rich, well thought out story hidden behind the guise of a simple romance. But now, he had no idea how to continue. He was standing at the pinnacle of his career with no clear way forward.

Victor used to love writing. He used to get up and look forward to it, the anticipation of continuing his story driving him forward every day. But at some point between the fourth and four hundredth time his editor called him demanding a new chapter by the end of the day, writing became a _job_. One day he woke up and found himself doing anything, _anything_ , to put off writing the last few chapters of _Stay Close to Me_. 

The discovery crushed him. When had he allowed this to stop being fun?

He sighed again. Despite just putting away his computer, Victor pulled out his phone, flicking through his social media accounts. Though he had his own PR team, he enjoyed using his Instagram account to interact with his fans, whether it was posting a quick teaser of what he was working on or just a cute video of Makkachin. 

Lately, though, he discovered something else he enjoyed about his fans: they regularly sent him links to fanfiction of his works.

At first, he ignored it. Not only did he not have any time to focus on it, he found himself a little apprehensive about looking up content based on his own writing.

Now, however, he found himself _enjoying_ reading what other people wrote. It reminded him of when, not too long ago, he could count himself among the people who loved writing for fun.

Victor pulled up his private messages and found a common theme among them: a popular author had recently updated their work, based on _Stay Close to Me_. Victor felt a sudden surge of excitement run through him. This author was, hands down, his favourite: KatsuYu, one of the more popular authors who had been endlessly suggested to him. While Victor didn't make it public that he read fanfiction (lest he terrify the authors who wrote it) that didn't seem to stop people from sending him updates about it.

He clicked on one of the many messages, finding a link that redirected him to the new chapter. Victor devoured every last word, feeling that same rush he used to feel when writing. God, this KatsuYu person was _so good_. It made Victor smile.

Suddenly, the screen of his phone changed: a phone call from his agent. Sighing, he accepted the call. "Hi, Yakov!"

"I'm scheduling you for an interview next week." No hello, how are you; straight to the point. Typical Yakov. 

Victor sighed. He was doing a lot of that lately. "But, Yakov..."

"No buts!" Yakov cut him off. "Since you insist on not writing, you're going to do every interview you can. No complaining!"

Victor rolled his eyes. He hated interviews almost as much as people were growing to hate interviewing him. 

Yakov was still talking, giving him the details of the interview. Victor made some noncommittal noises to prove he was listening, but was really imagining all the ways he could scare the unfortunate person who had to interview him this time. He was well aware of his reputation of being an absolute nightmare to interview. Despite what many of the press said, he was fully aware of what he was doing.

Victor smirked a little bit. It really was the little things in life.  



	2. Chapter 2

_A week later..._

Katsuki Yuuri was a collapsing star.

Standing in the lobby of the company's building, waiting to be ushered into a room where he would be interviewing _Victor freaking—_

No. Probably better if he didn't dwell on it too much. His hands were shaking hard enough as it was.

Finally, after declining coffee from at least three different interns—like he really needed the jittery high of a caffeine rush right now—he was led into what was clearly supposed to be a conference room for at least ten people. And at the head of an almost comically long table, dressed in what was probably supposed to be "business casual" but looking more like he stepped off of a magazine cover, was Victor freaking Nikiforov.

Yuuri couldn't help the way his breath caught in his chest. Victor was sitting facing just a fraction of an inch away from the door, looking at his phone with an air of practiced nonchalance. Seriously, was it possible to be graceful and not even be moving? Yuuri couldn't tell, his throat having gone dry the moment he stepped into the room.

Victor turned to Yuuri and put his phone away all in one smooth motion, flashing a brilliant smile and standing. He towered over Yuuri, though Yuuri tried not to let it intimidate him any further (which, it turns out, was a lost cause).

"You must be the unlucky soul who got stuck interviewing me," Victor says, amusement on his lips, but something else in his eyes that Yuuri couldn't quite identify. Victor held out his hand, not bothering to introduce himself. Yuuri took it, praying to every deity he could think of that his hands weren't too sweaty.

"Yuuri Katsuki." Yuuri had learned long ago that Americans—or anyone not from Japan, for that matter—never understood when he introduced himself with his last name first. "It's a pleasure to meet you." Yuuri praised himself for sounding like a functioning adult. 

Victor smiled again. "Yuuri," he repeated, Russian accent taking his name to a place that Yuuri hoped he would never forget. "Shall we get started?"

Yuuri realized he was staring. "Oh, um, yes. Of course." Yuuri couldn't help the blush that dusted his cheeks. Wasn't _he_ supposed to be conducting this interview? 

Yuuri was beginning to understand where Victor got his reputation. Ever since he had accepted this job, he had been an anxious mess, partly because of Victor's reputation, partly because _you're_ _never supposed to meet your heroes_. Yuuri tried to buy some time by slowly setting up his laptop, papers, and voice recorder.

Phichit's voice suddenly came back to him. _Haven't you done dozens of interviews before?_

Of course he had. This was his element. This was his _passion_. The passion that had been awoken because of the man in front of him.

Instead of ramping up his anxiety to new levels, the thought calmed the storm inside him—not all the way, but enough for him to take a deep breath, still his shaking hands, and slip into the cool, familiar confidence of his job.

* * *

Victor was expecting the usual boring affair that came with interviews: some poor sap who was suckered into the unenviable task of interviewing Victor Nikiforov, stumbling through the same set of questions he had been answering (or really, not answering) a million times now.

What he wasn't expecting was the person who walked through the door to the conference room.

He was young, eyes wide behind his glasses, and strikingly, heartbreakingly _beautiful_. 

Black hair swept away from his face, brown eyes gazing back at him, hands trembling ever so slightly around his bag. The sight took Victor's breath away.

Victor pocketed his phone quickly—not even bothering to finish the text to Chris he had started to type out—and smiled.

The poor boy—Yuuri, making an actual effort to commit the name to his awful memory—was clearly nervous. His hand was a little clammy during their handshake, his cheeks turning the most adorable shade of pink when Victor commented on getting started. And now, he seemed to be taking a long time messing with his laptop and various papers, handwritten notes scribbled all over them.

Victor almost sighed. When people interviewed him, they often got starstruck by the image of "Famous Bestselling Author Victor Nikiforov". It annoyed him to no end. Couldn't people just talk to him like he was a normal person? Being an author on the New York Times's best selling list didn't make him some kind of deity. It seemed that this person—painfully beautiful Yuuri Katsuki—would be no different.

No sooner had the thought formed in his brain, with the accompanying swell of disappointment, that Yuuri's entire demeanor suddenly shifted. It was like watching a snake shedding its skin: gone was the shy, quiet boy who introduced himself with clammy hands and nervous eyes. He looked squarely at Victor, unafraid, now a journalist in All Business Mode. With his sharp eyes and slicked back hair, the sight of it shocked Victor thoroughly.

And he was pretty sure more than a little blood left his head and shot downward.

Victor was expecting today to be a run-of-the-mill interview, with boring questions asked by a boring reporter. Instead, he was surprised to find that the questions flung at him were....different. Interesting. More than once Victor found himself forgetting to reply with snarky, unhelpful answers. There were a few boring questions, of course, but he was so swept up in the experience that he even answered those seriously.

Before he knew it, Yuuri was turning off his voice recorder, but not before typing furiously on his laptop for a few minutes. 

Victor could only stare. He had done dozens of interviews before, but nothing could ever compare to _this_.

Eventually, Yuuri turned to him, still in All Business Mode (Victor was starting to feel faint) when suddenly he blinked several times, and the shy, anxious boy from earlier returned. "Oh, s-sorry! I guess I just got really caught up in what I was writing." He stood up abruptly from his chair. "Thank you very much!" he said, with a little bow at the end.

Victor gawked a little bit. Did he just... _bow?_

Yuuri straightened up so fast Victor thought his spine would snap, that beautiful blush spreading across his cheeks. God, he was so cute. "Um, I'll be right back!" With that, he ducked out of the room, leaving Victor to sit in his own bewilderment.

Unsure of what to do now, Victor stood from his own seat, wondering if he should wait for Yuuri to come back or not. After all, they were technically done the interview, but there was no way he was leaving before learning more about amazingly gorgeous Yuuri Katsuki.

He wandered over to where Yuuri had abandoned his laptop, a document open on the screen. Victor didn't mean to pry, but this _was_ the first interview he had taken seriously in a very long time; surely he was owed some small insight into what this beautiful boy was going to write about him?

Victor bent over the laptop, reading over a few of the lines. It seemed that Yuuri had typed out some preliminary introductions to the article he was supposed to write, along with some bullet point notes for himself for the interview:

● Remember to speak up  
● Ask him about writing process—locations!!  
● DO NOT THINK ABOUT HOW BEAUTIFUL HE IS  
● He's just another person right? No he's Victor Freaking Nikiforov!!!

Victor's heart did a little flip in his chest. _Beautiful?_

Reading through the little paragraphs Yuuri had written, they struck a chord in him. Though it was only a few lines, why did his writing seem so..... _familiar?_

He was considering actually touching the computer at this point, to scroll down and see the rest of what Yuuri had written, when there was a noise behind him.

Looking over his shoulder, he saw Yuuri in the doorway, staring at him and looking somewhat horrified.

"Oh! Sorry," Victor said a bit sheepishly, stepping away from the computer. "You left it open and I guess I was just a bit curious about all the terrible things you were going to say about me."

Yuuri's eyes widened. "What? No! You're amazing, I could never—" His mouth snapped shut, another dark red blush coloured his cheeks as he seemed to register what he was saying. He rushed over to the table, slamming his laptop shut and gathering his things. Shoving them all unceremoniously into his bag, he turned to Victor once more. "Um, thank you again," he said quickly, before dashing out of the room.

"Wait!" It took Victor a second to realize what was happening. He knew he needed to catch up to Yuuri before he left. But by the time he gathered his wits and rushed out of the door, Yuuri was gone.

* * *

"You did _what?_ "

Yuuri held his head in his hands, elbows on the kitchen table. Phichit was sitting across from him, eyes wide.

"I, ah...may have run away from Victor Nikiforov?"

Phichit closed his eyes and breathed heavily through his nose. "Yuuri, I love you and everything, but what the _fuck?"_

Yuuri could only nod. What the fuck, indeed.

The interview had gone well—better than that, actually. It had been _amazing_. All of those rumors he heard about Victor actually being a jerk, his notorious reputation for being impossible to interview...where had that all come from? Talking to Victor had been surprisingly easy, almost like they had been having a normal conversation rather than a professional interview.

After they were done, Yuuri found himself inspired once again. Usually, during an interview, Yuuri might make a few notes here and there about the tone of the answers or a line he particularly wanted to use. But Victor was, for all intents and purposes, his _muse_. When they were finished, Yuuri couldn't help but let his inspiration take over.

Of course, this had backfired horribly when he realized he was silently typing away, while Victor was clearly waiting for him to confirm that they were done. Yuuri had been so embarrassed, and oh my God he actually _bowed?_ He hadn't done that at all since leaving Japan!

He had fled to the bathroom, typing out some very panicky texts to Phichit, before gathering enough courage to go back and officially wrap things up.

Except he found Victor looking at his computer. His computer that, in his anxiety-stricken haze, he had forgotten to lock. His computer, that had a document open that had at least three different bullet points of reminders to not focus on how beautiful and amazing Victor was and—  
It had all been too much. 

"I can't believe...after all that...you _ran away?!"_

 __"I panicked!" Yuuri groaned, letting his head fall through his hands and hit the table with a resounding _thud_.

Phichit sighed, reaching across the table and rubbing Yuuri's hair. 

"You're such a mess," Phichit said affectionately. Wordlessly, Yuuri nodded into the table.

* * *

It was clear, over the next week, that Victor needed to learn as much as he could about Yuuri Katsuki. 

Unfortunately, it wasn't easy. His social media accounts were all but abandoned, and while it wasn't too hard to find his official freelancing website, it didn't offer much insight into who Yuuri was as a person.

So, Victor settled for reading his works. Most of the things posted on his freelance page were interviews, like the one he had done with Victor. None of the subjects were even remotely as famous as Victor, which surprised him. Surely someone of Yuuri's talent and skill would be much better well known? 

In fact, after reading a few of Yuuri's works, Victor was surprised that Yuuri was a freelancer and not a full time employee at some huge news company. Surely he had more job offers than he knew what to do with?

At some point during the day, his phone went off with a text from Yakov, telling him that the interview was all done, and just waiting on their approval. While Victor normally let Yakov handle reading over the finished product, Victor wanted to read it himself this time.

Usually, Victor found these types of things to be tedious and just so _boring_. But Yuuri wrote this interview so well, and despite that it was about himself, Victor found that he was...enjoying it. Again, though, was that feeling of familiarity—maybe even déjà vu. _Where_ had he read this style before?

Victor finished the article, sending a quick _all good_ to Yakov before pulling up Instagram. His messages were, once again, flooded with the news of a new chapter of a fanfiction from KatsuYu. Victor smiled, opening the link, temporarily forgetting all about the interview article.  


As he got to the end of the chapter, that feeling of familiarity came back. The way the words were put together, how the sentences easily flowed, weaving the story and sucking you in by the first paragraph...

Victor scrolled back to the top of the page, ready to give the chapter another read when the username caught his eye again.

It hit him like a lightning bolt, like a ten-ton truck slamming into his brain. 

KatsuYu....Katsu...as in _Katsuki?_

Holy shit.

* * *

Yuuri was strongly considering giving up the internet for good. Or at the very least, deleting his email and living as a hermit in the mountains.

The entire time he had been writing up the interview piece, Yuuri couldn't help replay the events that had unfolded with Victor. The fact that he had embarrassed himself so completely in front of _Victor Nikiforov_ —

He shook his head. No, there was no point in rehashing that again. He had finally finished the article and sent it off, and then promptly started working on another chapter of his fanfiction. Yuuri liked writing fanfiction as a way to relieve stress, and boy, did he have a lot of stress lately.

So when his phone went off, signaling a new email, he assumed it would just be the company giving him feedback on the article.

Until he saw the name of the sender.

Yuuri wasn't sure his poor heart could take any more encounters with Victor Nikiforov. And yet, here was his name in his inbox, in an email that was sent via his freelancing page:

_Dear Yuuri,_

_I hope this isn't too forward, but I would love to meet up again to discuss the interview you conducted last week. I had some notes about it and would like to discuss it in person!_

_~Victor_

Yuuri's had to read the short message several times for it to register in his brain. _How_ did these things keep happening to him? It sounded like Victor wasn't happy with the interview. _Of course he isn't_ , Yuuri thought bitterly. _You fucked it up pretty good._

He considered declining, briefly. How could he even fathom _another_ painful encounter with amazing, beautiful, larger-than-life Victor Nikiforov?

Yuuri groaned. The real question, of course, was how on Earth could he _not?_

* * *

Victor sat in the cafe a few days after sending the email to Yuuri. Truth be told, he wasn't expecting such a quick response, especially as he used the guise of wanting to talk about work (when, in fact, Victor wanted to talk about anything but).

He stirred his coffee lazily, not really paying attention to the bustling shop around him. So when Yuuri walked in, he almost completely missed it. But the sight caught his attention, and he immediately straightened up in his seat.

God, Yuuri was _gorgeous._ He was dressed much more casually than he was in the interview, with a pale sweater and loose jeans. His dark hair wasn't styled this time—or even brushed, perhaps—and it fell messily across his forehead. Victor tried not to swoon in his seat.

Yuuri locked eyes with him and immediately blushed, making his way towards the table. Victor beamed at him, making him falter a bit on his way over.

"Yuuri!" he exclaimed before Yuuri even had the chance to sit down. "Thank you _so_ much for meeting me again."

Yuuri's blush only deepened. How was it legal to be so cute? "Oh, um, it was no problem, Mr. Nikiforov."

Victor tried not to scowl at the formality. It was somewhat Victor's own fault—he did ask Yuuri here under the guise of _work talk_. Which, of course, was just an excuse.

"Please, call me Victor." Victor leaned forward on the table, chin resting on his steepled hands.

"Ah, I'm not sure if that would be appropriate..."

"Please," Victor tried not to sound like he was begging, "I insist."

Yuuri finally took his seat across from Victor. "Ok, then...Victor."

Victor's smile only widened. 

Yuuri dug in his bag next to the table, pulling out his laptop. "So you said you were unhappy with the interview?" he asked, sounding just a little bit nervous.

Victor blinked. He didn't remember phrasing it quite like that in his email. But, alas, he had a tendency to be...less than tactful.

Well, he _did_ mention he wanted to talk about work; he might as well see it through to the end. "No, at all," he said. "In fact, I enjoyed it."

Yuuri paused at his laptop, looking bewildered. "R-really?'

Victor smiled again. _More than you know_. But he had to keep up the appearance of professionalism, he supposed. "I just had a few things I wanted to talk about..."

* * *

Yuuri isn't sure when exactly it happened—maybe between the second cup of coffee Victor ordered, or the part where Yuuri blurted out that he absolutely _loved_ Victor's books—but soon enough, Yuuri found that they had stopped talking about work and started talking about life.

Yuuri, of course, knew a lot of the things Victor talked about: that he had a house in St. Petersburg, that he had a beautiful poodle named Makkachin, that his breakout book had been _Gold_. 

What he didn't know was how Victor often missed the way the snow looked in Russian streets on December nights, that he only got to go home to Russia once every couple of months, that he was just so _tired_ of the traveling, the interviews, the media frenzy.

Eventually, the hard knot of anxiety in his stomach started to loosen. He soon found that the man sitting across from him wasn't _Victor Freaking Nikiforov_ , bestselling author and Yuuri's longtime idol. Instead, he was somehow discovering that this was just...Victor. And just Victor was making Yuuri's heart beat like it had just discovered life.

Just Victor felt, in so many ways, like reading _Gold_ for the first time.

At some point, Yuuri closed his laptop, content to just...talk. Like they had been longtime friends, meeting up after a long separation, falling into an easy and practiced routine.

 _Victor somehow feels like home_.

Eventually, Victor managed to turn the conversation to be about Yuuri. Yuuri found himself talking about his family in Japan, his friendship with Phichit, and even his own career in writing.

As soon as it came up, Victor focused on it like a hawk. "Oh, I read a lot of your stuff on your webpage. You write quite well, for a freelancer."

Yuuri wasn't sure if that was a compliment or a backhanded insult. He tried not to dwell on it too much. "Thank you very much."

"Do you write anything else? It seems like writing _interviews_ and _articles_ would get so boring after a while."

Yuuri couldn't help but chuckle a bit. "It does, sometimes. I do like to write for fun, though. Phichit says it doesn't make sense that I write for fun _and_ work." Yuuri laughed, thinking Victor of all people would understand this dilemma. 

Victor smiled, the sight looking somehow...mischievous. "Any chance I could read this 'writing for fun' of yours sometime? I'd be happy to give you some pointers."

Yuuri choked on his tea. 

_Nope nope nope never going to happen._ Victor could _never_ find out about KatsuYu. _Never._

"Ah, you wouldn't be interested in it. It's just stress relief drabbles, nothing worth reading!" Yuuri tried not to trip over his words, feeling the anxiety swirl inside him again. "Besides, I'm not really interested in a career in writing fiction." _Not when you have done it so perfectly_.

Was Yuuri imaging it, or did Victor look a bit...disappointed? "Well, I would certainly _love_ to read more from you. You write beautifully."

Yuuri felt his blush return, colouring his cheeks all the way to his ears, but he smiled a little at the praise."That means a lot, coming from you," he said quietly.

Victor grinned.

They continued to talk for far longer than Yuuri expected, until Victor looked at his watch and sighed heavily.

"I'm afraid I'll have to cut our time short, Yuuri. I'm meeting my agent in less than twenty minutes, and if I'm late again you may never find my body."

Yuuri couldn't help the swell of disappoint that washed over him. Talking to Victor had been nothing like he expected, so easy and full of laughter. He had heard that Victor was impossible to talk to, and yet he couldn't remember the last time he had laughed so much.

Victor drained the last of his coffee and stood. Yuuri followed suit, quickly packing his bag. 

They made their way to the door of the cafe together, where Victor held it open for Yuuri, ever the gentleman. Yuuri smiled a little at it.

The stood on the sidewalk in front of the door, and Yuuri was unsure what to do. He definitely wanted to see Victor again, but what if Victor didn’t feel the same way? What if he wanted to keep their relationship strictly professional?

Victor, as he so often did, ended up surprising Yuuri by taking his hand and kissing it softly. Yuuri squeaked a bit at the gesture.

“I had a lovely time, Yuuri,” Victor said softly, keeping Yuuri’s hand in his. “I hope we can see each other again sometime.”

Yuuri felt his cheeks go hot. Victor was looking at him through his eyelashes, his bangs sweeping across his cheekbone is _just_ the right way. Yuuri knew, in that moment, that he was doomed.

In a move of uncharacteristic boldness, Yuuri covered Victor’s hand with his free one. “I would like nothing more.”

* * *

Victor didn't think he would enjoy his time in Detroit. He found America to be....stifling. The noise, the people, even the _food....._ none of it made sense to him. So when he had to come here to continue to promote _Stay Close to Me_ , he found he couldn't wait to leave. The only reason he was staying in Detroit for so long was because the publishing company for his books were based there.

Now, though, he was dreading leaving.

Who would have thought he would have found someone as beautifully flawless as Yuuri Katsuki?

After their date (was it a date at all? Victor decided to count it as a date regardless that he essentially lured Yuuri there under false pretenses) Victor went back to the apartment he was renting in Detroit, pulled out his laptop, and found that the words were spilling out of him almost faster than he could type.

Victor wasn't entirely sure what had changed. He had been reading fanfiction of his own works off and on ever since _Stay Close to Me_ had been published, and he had been reading KatsuYu's work for about as long. But now, putting a face to the name, seeing that the person writing these wonderful stories was so _real_ , real and talented and beautiful, ignited something in Victor—something that he thought had died somewhere between _Duetto_ and _Stay Close to Me._

 __While he couldn't get Yuuri to admit to being KatsuYu, Victor was sure he would get there—someday.

The thought made Victor smile, the words somehow coming even faster than before.

* * *

"I was kidding when I told you to make him fall in love with you."

Yuuri scoffed, hitting _send_ on the text he typed out to Victor. "He's not _in love with me_ , Phichit. We just exchanged numbers in case he had anything else he wanted done with the interview write up."

Phichit crossed his arms, sitting across from Yuuri on the couch, clearly unconvinced. "Uh-huh. Tell me, have you been _talking about work_ this whole time, then?"

"Well..." Yuuri blushed. "No," he finally admitted.

Phichit smirked. "I rest my case." A thought suddenly occurred to him. "So when is he going to read _This Beating Heart_?"

Yuuri leveled a dark look at Phichit. "He can never know."

Phichit couldn't help but laugh. "Aw, come on, Yuuri, I bet he'd be flattered."

Yuuri didn't blink. "I would rather die," he deadpanned.

"It's so adorable though! The author and the fanfiction writer...it's so _romantic_."

Yuuri threw at pillow at his head.

* * *

Things after that seemed to move very quickly.

Yuuri's article, after some final editing notes from the company, was approved and published. It did extraordinarily well, considering this was the first interview of Victor in a long time that could actually be deemed successful. Not long after, he was contacted by another company who wanted him to do another one of Victor's scheduled interviews. Apparently Yuuri's ability to make Victor answer questions made him a more favourable candidate than most.

This company—a fairly well known celebrity magazine—wanted him to follow a more specific script, one that was written and approved by the company. Yuuri wasn't sure he was a fan of that, but they were willingly to pay him exceedingly well, so he decided to go for it. After all, this was also another opportunity for him to see Victor.

It turned out that seeing Victor wasn't as rare as Yuuri expected. After their somewhat strange encounter at the cafe (which Yuuri still had butterflies from), they ended up meeting a few more times, without the pretense of _work talk_. Instead, they just...talked. Yuuri found himself enjoying Victor's company so much more than even seventeen year old Yuuri could have ever dreamed of.

He came home late one night, after an amazing dinner date—yes, a _date—_ with Victor. He had taken Yuuri to one of the more expensive restaurants in the area, despite Yuuri's protest that he couldn't afford it. Victor had simply winked at him. 

Phichit was still up, a canvas in the middle of the living room, paint and brushes scattered across a protective tarp. "So did the date go well?"

Yuuri pulled off his shoes, taking a moment before answering. "Yes," he replied, not bothering to deny that it was, in fact, a date. His head was still a little fuzzy from the exhilaration of being with Victor. Victor, who had walked him home despite having a car parked around the corner. Victor, who had wrapped his scarf around Yuuri when he shivered a bit. 

Victor, who had kissed him so sweetly in front of his apartment building that Yuuri thought his heart would explode. His head was still spinning from that.

Phichit grinned wolfishly at him. "Did it go.... _really well?"_

"Oh my God, Phichit, _no._ " Yuuri fell onto the couch in front of Phichit's canvas, leaning his head back. "We just had dinner. And then went out for a walk. That's _it._ "

Phichit made a noise that was something like, _sure it was_. "You really like him, huh?"

Yuuri kept his gaze focused on the ceiling. There was a blush across his cheeks that had nothing to do with the weather. "He's just so....I don't even know. He's not what I thought he'd be."

Phichit turned away from the canvas. "Is that...a good thing?"

" _Yes,"_ Yuuri said fervently. "He's a bit oblivious, and really, _really_ blunt sometimes, but....he's amazing."

Phichit chuckled a bit, turning back to his painting. "If only high school Yuuri could see you now."

"He's so _real_ , Phichit," Yuuri continued, as if Phichit hadn't said anything. "I always thought he was this larger-than-life person, but he's so..... _genuine_."

Truth be told, Yuuri had been even more scared to go on a real date with Victor than he was when he was interviewing him. After all these years, Yuuri had put Victor on this impossible to reach pedestal, imagining him in a place Yuuri could never get to. There was a part of Yuuri that had been terrified he would discover that Victor was just...human, like him.

And yet, that very discovery lead Yuuri to these incredible feelings. Just Victor was, of course, a regular person, at the end of the day. And while regular, human Victor had his flaws, he was someone Yuuri wanted to hold on to.

Just then, Yuuri felt his phone buzz in his pocket. Frowning, he pulled it out, seeing an email from the company he was scheduled to do this latest interview with. He had only met them once for a preliminary meeting at the beginning of the week, to sign some papers and go over what was expected of him. He was supposed to submit a set of questions to them next week, and they shouldn't have been expecting anything from him until then.

It was also 11:30 p.m. on a Friday night. What could they possibly want with him now?

A sense of dread enveloped Yuuri, though he wasn't sure where it came from. Hands shaking just a tad, he opened the email.

_Dear Mr. Katsuki,_

Oh boy. Nobody ever called him _Mr. Katsuki_ unless something big was happening.

_Dear Mr. Katsuki,_

_As you may recall, last week you signed an NDA as well as a contract for the upcoming interview you are conducting and subsequent article you are writing about Mr. Victor Nikiforov. As you may remember, the contract included a strict "no fraternization" clause, which extends to employees of this company, as well as its interview subjects. This is, of course, to ensure the integrity of the interview and articles, as well as to guarantee that there will be no accusations of favoritism when hiring third party contractors, such as yourself._

_As you may be aware, pictures of you and Mr. Nikiforov have surfaced on many news and gossip websites. While your own personal life and free time are your own business, in this case, we find these events to be incredibly troubling, as it is a direct violation of your contract._

_Therefore, we ask you come to our office on Monday at 9:00 a.m. to discuss how we are going to proceed. We also encourage you to bring your own legal counsel, as we may be taking legal action in this matter._

_Thank you,_

_Julia Page  
Office Manager_

Yuuri read the email once, twice. Halfway through the third read-through, he found the words were impossible to decipher. Why was that?

Oh. It was because his hands were shaking.

Wait. What _pictures?_

Yuuri opened an internet browser, quickly typing in Victor's name. The very first result showed him what he wanted:

_Victor Nikiforov's New Asian Boyfriend!_

Wow, that was...kind of racist?

Under the headline were pictures; of them holding hands over dinner, walking in a park with Makkachin, heads bent together in conversation in the soft glow of a coffee shop.

Yuuri felt the happiness he was just experiencing pop like a bubble.

Any other time, these types of pictures might have made him feel violated. After all, wasn't his love life—and consequently, Victor's—nobody's business but their own? 

However, at that moment, he didn't have any room inside of him to care. 

He must have been quiet for a long time, because Phichit finally turned to look at him. Phichit opened his mouth to say something, but stopped when he saw the look on Yuuri's face.

"Yuuri?" No answer. Yuuri's eyes were glued to the tiny screen of his phone. He could hear the blood rushing in his ears.

"Yuuri? Hey, what's wrong?" Phichit's voice was growing alarmed. Setting his paintbrush down, he came over to where Yuuri was sitting.

Wordlessly, Yuuri showed him the email.

Phichit read it quickly, more quickly that Yuuri had. His eyes widened. 

"Whoa, what the hell? _Legal action?!_ Over a few pictures? Can they do that?"

Yuuri just nodded. This company was large, and well known. They could definitely do that. Especially since Yuuri had signed a contract.

"Ok, Yuuri, don't panic." Too late. "You have to tell Victor. He can probably help—"

 _"No_ ", Yuuri whispered, taking his phone back, his hands still shaking. "No, I can't tell him. This could jeopardize the publicity of his book, oh God, this could affect his _career_ —"

"Yuuri, don't be ridiculous." Phichit knelt next to him, putting a hand on his knee. Yuuri's breaths were coming too quickly; Phichit had to act fast in order to avoid a full blown panic attack. "He _likes_ you, that much is obvious. I'm sure he'd want to help."

Yuuri blinked rapidly behind his glasses. Suddenly, he stood, almost knocking Phichit over. 

"I just—I'm gonna go to bed. I can't deal with this right now."

With that, Yuuri was gone, the sound of his door slamming shut ringing with a sense of finality. Phichit stared after him, unsure of what to do. Biting his lip, he pulled out his own phone, deciding to take matters into his own hands. Yuuri was being unnecessarily stubborn about this whole ordeal, but Phichit was going to make sure he didn't have to face it alone.

* * *

Yuuri's weekend consisted of ignoring Victor's texts, then ignoring Victor's calls. The words _legal action_ bounced around in his head the whole time, keeping him awake and getting under his skin. Phichit was probably right: Victor could definitely help. But Yuuri couldn't bear the idea of asking. What if this got back to Victor's publishing company? What if the company doing the interview decided to rope Victor into the lawsuit? Yuuri couldn't handle that, not on top of his own worry and fear.

His anxiety and panic swirled inside of him, creating a hurricane of emotions that wouldn't let up. By the time Monday rolled around, he had gotten maybe eight hours of sleep total, and it showed in the dark circles under his eyes and the lack of colour in his face. But there was nothing he could do about it now.

And so he found himself standing in front of the company's building, hands shaking, dread rising up from his stomach and constricting in a tight knot in his chest. He obviously didn't have the money for _legal counsel_ , so he could only hope his second year law course could help him through this.

He took what was supposed to be a deep, steadying breath, but only ended up nearly causing him to hyperventilate. Yuuri stepped up to the building, pushing open the doors—

And was met with the familiar sight of silver hair in the lobby.

For a moment, Yuuri was so shocked that he forgot his fear, his hands temporarily loosening their death grip on the strap of his bag. Victor was standing at the front desk, leaning in to get into the secretary's face, speaking in a low voice.

Yuuri wasn't sure what to do. Should he go up to Victor? Should he avoid him? What was he even doing here? Had the company contacted him to inform him of Yuuri's broken contract? Oh God, what if he was here to press charges too...

Yuuri could see Victor's shoulders tense in agitation as the secretary picked up the phone and furiously dialed a number. Victor leaned against counter, looking so much like an avenging angel with that dark look on his face. It made Yuuri's heart race in anxiety, but he couldn't help but admire the lean curve of Victor's back.

Someone came through the door, brushing past Yuuri, making him jump. He realized he was standing directly in front of the doors, and moved a bit to the side.

The movement seemed to catch Victor's eye, who turned a bit more, face lighting up when he caught sight of Yuuri. He waved, gesturing for Yuuri to join him by the front desk.

Yuuri's heart sped up—he was sure it was going to beat right out of his chest at this point—but Victor's face didn't look angry anymore. Instead, he looked...pleased, somehow?

Yuuri forced his shaking legs to carry him to the front desk. As soon as he got there, Victor put an arm around him, pressing him securely against his side.

"Don't worry," Victor murmured in Yuuri's ear. "We'll get this all sorted out in no time."

"W-what are you doing here?" Yuuri managed to ask, despite his mouth going dry.

"Your friend contacted me," Victor replied. "I then contacted the company. We'll deal with this together, Yuuri."

"Then...you're not mad?" Yuuri couldn't find it in himself to be angry with Phichit, who probably just saved his life, if not his career.

Victor scoffed in response. "Not at _you_ ," he said pointedly, shooting another glare at the poor secretary, making her flinch a little as she talked with someone on the phone. "Really, a no fraternization clause in a freelancing contract is just absurd. And frankly, the fact that I was not formally contacted to be a part of this meeting is somewhat insulting."

Yuuri had thought it was ridiculous as well, but there was no way he could have predicted this turn of events when he first signed that contract. Truth be told, he had completely forgotten about the "no fraternization" clause.

The secretary finally hung up, still looking at little shaken. "I'm afraid Mr. Harraway is in a meeting right now, but I can—"

Victor waved his hand dismissively, cutting her off. "You can _nothing,_ Ms. Page. Tell him that there is no problem with Yuuri's contract, because I am officially cancelling my interview with your company. That should clear things up, yes?"

Ms. Page's eyes went wide. "Mr. Nikiforov, please, if you could just—"

Victor cut her off again, this time with a simple look. " _Yes?_ " he repeated.

She seemed to shrink a little bit, nodding in defeat. "Yes, that should clear everything up."

"Wonderful," Victor said, voice cold. "Please tell Gavin that as long as he drops this whole lawsuit nonsense, I'll consider working with your company again in the future."

With that, Victor took Yuuri's hand—very obviously, in front of everyone—turned, and walked towards the exit, tugging Yuuri along with him.

"Wait, Victor!" Yuuri pulled his hand out of Victor's once they were out the door.

Victor turned, looking puzzled. "What is it?"

"I..." How was Yuuri supposed to explain the complex cocktail of emotions currently swirling inside of him? Shock over the whole ordeal; relief of course, that he wouldn't have to face legal action after all; and the biggest one of all, his old friend guilt.

Victor, thankfully, seemed to understand, at least somewhat. "It was no problem, Yuuri." He took Yuuri's hand back, rubbing soothing circles on his wrist. "Your friend told me all about what they were threatening. Ridiculous, honestly. Besides, I have at least a dozen of these things lined up over the next month or so, probably more once Yakov is done finalizing my schedule." He chuckled a bit. "I can't wait to explain _this_ to him!"

That did it: the idea that Victor would have to have a difficult conversation with his agent because of _him_ pushed Yuuri over the edge. He put a hand to his mouth as a sob threatened to escape him; he managed to choke it back, but not the tears that streamed down his face.

Victor reeled back in surprise, his eyes going wide. Panic was clear on his face, and he cupped Yuuri's face in his hands. "Yuuri, what's wrong?"

Yuuri just shook his head, not trusting his voice. He didn't know how to explain the floodgate that had opened inside him.

Victor swiped his tears away with his thumbs. "It's ok, Yuuri, they're going to drop the lawsuit, ok? There's no need to panic, don't panic! Ugh, should I just kiss you or something?!"

At that, Yuuri actually laughed a little. Victor, telling him not to panic, when he was so clearly panicking himself...couple that with the fact that they were both standing in the middle of the street at 9:30 a.m. on a Monday only added to absurdity of the situation, and it somehow managed to calm Yuuri's nerves, even if it was just a bit.

"I'm sorry," Yuuri finally said, voice breaking a bit. "I just...I never meant to drag you in to my problems. I don't want to cause you any trouble..."

"Oh, Yuuri." Victor used his hold on Yuuri's face to pull him to his chest, wrapping his arms securely around him. "You're not causing me any trouble. In fact, these past few weeks have been the highlight of my stay here." 

Yuuri sniffed, looking up at Victor. "Really?"

Victor planted a soft kiss on top of Yuuri's head. "Really," he said softly.

They stayed like that for a moment, a stone in the middle of a river of people on the street. Then, Victor pulled back a bit. "Seeing as I've cleared your schedule, how does breakfast sound?"

Yuuri smiled, a little watery, but it was there nonetheless. He wiped his eyes under his glasses, and for the first time in a long time, he felt...light. "Breakfast sounds wonderful."

They decided to go to a small restaurant close by, walking hand in hand. Yuuri was glad; after everything that had happened, he wasn't sure if he could stand on his own just yet.

As they were placing their orders, Yuuri felt his phone buzz. True to their word, the company emailed him saying they would be dropping his contract altogether. While it was nice to not have to worry about the possibility of being sued, it also meant the main source of income he was counting on had suddenly dried up. The realization hit him suddenly, and he couldn't help but frown a bit at his phone.

Victor noticed his expression. "What is it, Yuuri?"

Yuuri pursed his lips, unsure how to respond. He didn't want to sound ungrateful—after all, Victor had _just_ stuck his neck out for him, and Yuuri had caused him enough trouble already. This was one of the perils of being a freelancer, something Yuuri was well accustomed to. Maybe he could pick up Phichit's job at the coffee shop for a while...

"Yuuri?"

This snapped him out of this thoughts, realizing he had been quiet for too long. "Oh, it's nothing," he said, pocketing his phone. "Just a confirmation from the company that they're dropping my contract."

Victor smiled, relieved. But his face quickly clouded again. "But something's wrong, isn't it?"

Yuuri hesitated. He couldn't impose on Victor anymore, he just _couldn't_. He had already done so much for Yuuri. But Victor put his hand on top of Yuuri's, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "You can tell me anything, you know?"

Yuuri looked down at their joined hands, eyes filling with tears again. It was too early in the morning to be this emotionally frayed. But between his desperate worry all weekend and his mini meltdown on the street, Yuuri found himself feeling absolutely exhausted. He couldn't be bothered to keep it to himself any longer.

"I appreciate what you did, Victor, really," Yuuri started, unsure how to bring it up. "It's just...this was my only contract for a while, and I'm not sure if I have enough money to make rent this month without it..."

Victor blinked, a little shocked. Yuuri waved his free hand reassuringly. "B-but you helped me out a lot! I'm so grateful for what you did, you have no idea."

Victor looked upset. "Oh, Yuuri, I'm so sorry." He rubbed his forehead, clearly distressed. "I should have realized this contract would be important to you. I was so angry I didn't even think—"

Victor's head snapped up. "I can fix this," he said, determined.

"No, you didn't do anything wrong! You don't have to fix anything!" Yuuri said desperately, trying to backpedal. Great, now he had upset Victor with his stupid problems. Again. "It's my fault, I'm the one who violated their contract, I should have read it more closely."

But Victor wasn't listening, pulling out his phone and quickly dialing a number. "Chris? Are you free right now? I need to introduce you to someone."

* * *

"A _job?_ At his editor's publishing company??"

Phichit's eyes were wide, staring at Yuuri from where he sat on the couch.

"Um, yeah." Yuuri was curled up on the other end, still trying to process how this had all happened so quickly. Victor's editor, Christophe, had shown up not fifteen minutes after Victor had called him. After a brief conversation with Victor and Yuuri scrambling to pull up his freelancing website on his phone, Chris had grinned and offered him a job.

"Just like that?" Phichit still couldn't believe it. Hell, neither could Yuuri.

"He wants me to start as an intern, basically. I have to work my way up just like everyone else. But I'm being paid better than freelancing and Chris said if Victor vouched for me, it's good enough for him." Yuuri shrugged, smiling a bit. He was incredibly fortunate that Victor’s publishing company was based in Detroit. 

Phichit whistled. "Shit, Yuuri, congratulations! You think you can find a cute guy who works at an art studio for me?"

Yuuri laughed. "I'll keep an eye out for you."

* * *

As the months went on, Yuuri found his life falling into a comfortable rhythm.

Working at Chris's publishing company was difficult, to say the least. He had to work hard to prove that he wasn't there just on Victor's recommendation. Despite this, he found he was enjoying himself. And he found he was _good_ at it. Chris winked at him in the halls, telling him that he was sure to earn himself a promotion if he kept up the good work.

Being with Victor was also difficult sometimes. Victor was loving at best and self absorbed at worst, and his intense fame made going out on dates...hard. But they worked well together, and Yuuri found himself falling more and more in love with him as the days went on.

It also helped that Victor wasn’t traveling nearly as much as when he first published _Stay Close to Me_. While it was true that he still had a good deal of promoting to do for both _Stay Close to Me_ and his upcoming series, he was still primarily focussed on actually writing it first. Despite Yakov’s protests about settling down in Detroit (and not, say, in Los Angeles, where “all the successful authors today live, you moron”), Victor extended the lease on his previously short term contract for his apartment. 

One afternoon, they were lounging in said apartment, cuddling on Victor's bed. Yuuri had the day off, and Victor decided to take a break from his writing. At the speed he was going, the first draft of his new book would be ready by the end of the year. Yuuri had been impressed as Victor typed out page after page, blazing through his story at an incredible speed. Victor would just nuzzle his neck and say, "It's all been thanks to you, darling." It made Yuuri blush (as did many of the things Victor said to him).

Everything was going well. Except for one...tiny...detail.

Victor _refused_ to let Yuuri read any of his new work. The new book— _On My Love_ —was nearing completion, and Yuuri hadn't read a word of it. He would have understood if it was for safety purposes: not wanting any of the book to be accidentally spoiled or prematurely published to the world. That, however, was _not_ why Yuuri hadn't read it.

It was because Victor wanted to read Yuuri's works first.

Yuuri swore he would take the secret of KatsuYu to his grave. Victor could never, ever know. He had held strong for a while, refusing to even entertain the idea.

Now, however, as Victor's book was coming to an end, Yuuri found himself more and more frustrated. He didn't want to read the book with the rest of the world; he wanted to read it _now._

And so, after so many months of pleading and whining from both of them, Yuuri finally, _finally_ relented.

Yuuri pulled out his laptop, some small part of him hoping that maybe it would spontaneously combust on his legs. As it booted up, he turned to Victor, who was draped over Yuuri on the bed.

"Ok, so have you..." Yuuri blushed madly, hiding his face in his hands. He couldn't believe they were about to have this conversation. "Have you ever heard of...fanfiction?"

Victor's expression was just a _tad_ too innocent. "Hm, yes, I think I have. It's when people write stories based on already written stories, yes?"

"Um, basically, yes." Yuuri moved his hands from his face to type in his password, screwing it up three times, slowly becoming a nervous wreck. "So...I used to write...fanfiction...for your books."

Victor frowned, feigning hurt. " _Used_ to?"

Yuuri's blush deepened. "Ok, I still do! Just not as much, with the new job and everything...oh God, don't make me talk about it more." He pulled up _This Beating Heart_ , the work he wrote based off of _Stay Close to Me_. If he was going to die from embarrassment, it might as well be because of his latest (and, if the two thousand comments were to be taken into consideration, best) work.

Wordlessly, he shoved the computer at Victor, who chuckled a bit and put the computer on his lap.

The silence while Victor read _ate_ at Yuuri. He was sure the blood was going to explode out of his cheeks, he was blushing so hard. Oh God, he was really doing this, he was showing his _fanfiction_ of _Victor Nikiforov's_ books to _Victor himself_ and this was too much, he wasn't sure if it was worth reading Victor's new book anymore—

"Hm." Victor's voice brought Yuuri out of his spiraling thoughts. "This is quite good, Yuuri. I think you've done a good job with my characters and building a brand new story. But..."

Yuuri was going to die. "But...?"

Victor put a hand to his chin, considering. "Honestly, I think prefer _As My Sun Rises_.”

There was at least a minute of silence. Yuuri blinked, shock grinding his brain to a halt. Then, the situation caught up to him all at once, and it hit him like a freight train. He gasped, voice breaking:

" _You knew this whole time?!"_

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed it! Comments and constructive criticism are always appreciated :)
> 
> Check me out on [Tumblr](https://yuuri-nikiforever.tumblr.com/)


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